


Delirium

by Bleed_Peroxide



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-09-20 09:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9486119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bleed_Peroxide/pseuds/Bleed_Peroxide
Summary: The burden placed upon Noctis's shoulders is one that nobody had planned for - slowly, his friends can only watch as the prince slowly starts to crack at the seams. But what relief can a "mere" commoner hope to offer someone destined for the throne? What reprieve can be offered to someone that's already been promised to someone else, and whose life has been arranged for him since his birth?Maybe the solution is NOT to give the prince a sense of control over the chaos, but rather, to remove it entirely.... and to let a pauper assume the role of a king.(An admittedly slow burn of a fic with developing Prompto/Noctis and the eventual inclusion of BDSM aspects later on.)





	1. Chapter 1

Every artist had a muse. Even if they themselves were unaware of it, the truth of it became evident enough when given enough time to perfuse their work. Maybe it became clear they had a secret fondness for the shapes and colors of flowers, or were drawn to the unpredictable savagery of beasts in the wild. Perhaps it was something little closer to home. Or more accurately, it was _someone_ that drew an artist’s attention.

Looking through his camera, realization hit Prompto like a spark of lightning. Though he'd taken pictures of a myriad of subjects as a child - puppies at play, water painted in the colors of sunset, a deer in the woods - he realized that the focus of his pictures had narrowed considerably as he'd gotten older.

 _Click._ A candid shot of the Crown Prince eating one of Ignis’ many attempts at The Nameless Dessert from Tenebrae, hands still visibly sticky from the icing. Noctis used his tongue to clean away the last of the sugary glaze, unaware of the way Prompto's breath had caught in his throat or the way his fingers trembled around the camera.

 _Click._ Noctis mimicking the stance of a cartoonish crow from the popular fast food chain, face set in feigned seriousness. The picture couldn't capture the infectious snickering Noctis held at bay by biting the inside of his cheeks to keep his expression intact.

 _Click._ A monochrome portrait of the prince from the side, staring towards the sea with a contemplative softness to those sad eyes of his.

 _Click._ Noctis captured during battle, exhausted eyes glowing crimson as he called upon an astral.  Breathtaking as he thought his friend’s eyes were in their natural state, Prompto couldn't help but find it strangely beautiful when they were crimson, like the dangerous glimmer of a knife’s blade.

The word choice wasn’t lost him. How could he _not_ be aware of it, when his entire body seemed attuned to the subject in question? When he was younger, he’d drummed it up to anything and everything: an influx of hormones, the novelty of meeting the _prince_ , or the fact that he was, at the end of the day, a photographer. He got a thrill when he could best capture the beauty of whatever had caught his eye, and even more so when his snapshots elicited reactions such as a gasp of awe or a warm compliment. He was reminded of a quote how one could know the heart of the person behind the lens by a glance.

Chewing at his lip in thought, Prompto glanced at the photos again. He sure as hell hoped that was just superstition and not anything the others had picked up on. He had plenty of photos of the others, so maybe his… preferences were all in his head.

Here was one of Gladio, flashing a winning smile as he posed in front of the sign for Galdin Quay. Not one given to shyness, he’d given little finger guns at the camera for added effect - to which Ignis, out of view of the lens, merely shook his head even as he hid a smirk behind his hand at the display.

Speaking of which, here was one for the advisor himself. Prompto loved this one in particular because it was something he caught on accident. He'd been meaning to take a picture of the meal being prepared, but instead found himself wanting to immortalize their advisor just like this: cooking for his loved ones, a thoughtful smile on his lips as he methodically chopped vegetables. Prompto had always worried in the back of his mind if Ignis merely put up with it because he was the only one that knew _how_ to cook out of the four of them... until he'd taken that photograph. (When Noctis inevitably started fishing out the greens in the stew, the gunner took greater pains to compliment the food to keep that rare softness on the other’s face just a bit longer.)

Yet as he clicked through his photos, Prompto noticed that there was a sense of intimacy and warmth to the shots of Noctis in particular that frankly _embarrassed_ him. He felt like he took such pictures with all the subtlety of a lovestruck girl scrawling initials in her notebook. He could argue all he wanted that his style was strictly for aesthetics: that the sunset looked picturesque rather than confessing that the prince looked breathtaking in the lighting, that he wanted to prove how big of a fish his friend had caught rather than that he’d wanted to capture how the other had beamed with pride like a child.

By anyone’s standards, the crown prince _was_ beautiful. Always had been. With big blue eyes paired with dark hair and creamy pale skin, the media compared him to a doll during his youth… and age had only refined his looks. Soft cobalt eyes honed to sharp sapphire, the petite boy-prince sculpted into a lithe, agile fighter under Gladio’s careful training. It hadn’t hit Prompto just how well the training had gone until they’d changed during gym, and he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from his friend like a ravenous man before a banquet.

 _Click._ Noctis with a trail of glowing blue following after him as he warp-striked across the field, driving a sword into a daemon’s wrists. The prince must have been at least twenty, thirty feet in the air given the massive height of the giant, its red-hot sword easily dwarfing him, but his face betrayed no fear.

Lit by the unnatural embers of the sword, Prompto couldn't help but compare it to the way he looked illuminated by the campfire. He was pale and reclusive as the moon, and in the light of flames, seemed almost ethereal. Noctis favored midnight and shadows like his father, and when night fell, it was as if the ancient magic of his bloodline came alive. It was easy to forget sometimes that Noctis was meant to be a king, slumped against the car door and snoring gently in his sleep. But in those glimpses he stole seemed to underscore that Prompto was a commoner in the company of someone destined to commune with gods.

The thought made him want to laugh, though if it was from amusement or despair, Prompto couldn’t guess. His friend was expected to fill in his father’s shoes and protect an entire kingdom…. yet barely looked people in the eyes and had shook like a leaf when he was expected to speak during class.

“I’m just not good with people,” Noctis had sighed, one eye squinted shut as he aimed the laser gun at a pixelated daemon. In what felt like a memory from another lifetime, school had let out early that day, so he and Prompto had wandered to the arcade while it was still relatively empty. There was an upcoming conference that King Regis had to attend, and he wanted his son to come with him to start learning what his future role entailed.

“I know I’m supposed to know all the right things to do and say. But the thing is, I _don’t_. Hell, Gladio’s better at that stuff than I am. I didn’t inherit whatever social voodoo my father has. Gods know he tries. I don’t like being around people I don’t know; all the meet-and-greet shit is terrifying. Dad probably sprung out of the womb discussing foreign policy, he actually _likes_ all those banquets. I’d rather be literally anywhere else.”

Prompt had made a thoughtful sound at that. When Noctis was a small child, he had often hidden behind his father’s legs during public appearances, peeking out occasionally to observe with wide eyes. More often than not, he would look up at his father rather than the crowd. A charming streak of shyness in a child, so far as the press had been concerned.

As he spent time with Noctis in their high school years, Prompto didn't take long to realize that his friend had a tendency to gravitate behind him, staying just out of view. _Intentionally_. He’d tested it. When _he_ shifted, Noctis did the same, as though the prince was using him as a human barrier. It wasn’t until he whirled around and asked what his deal was that he noticed that Noctis had the _exact same expression_ as when he had been a child observing the press. The rigidity of his friend’s spine, the constant fidgeting, the fact that he kept glancing at Prompto nervously…

Prompto recognized it as vestiges of that child wanting to hide behind someone’s legs. While he no longer could do that at his height and age, he _could_ at least put a socially acceptable barrier by slipping behind someone else. Prompto had to admit that it was subtle - better if the prince was seen as quiet and aloof rather than have it be known that he was still terrified of social interaction (which was a trait, Noctis no doubt realized, viewed as inappropriate for royalty).

“And that’s why you hide behind me all the time,” Prompto responded lightly, picking off strangling daemons lurking near the borders of the monitor before setting the gun on the counter.  

Noctis eyed him carefully, not sure how to react until he realized there was no malice intended. Everyone walked on eggshells around him or spoke in vague terms, never quite saying what they meant; he still had to get used the fact that Prompto was blunt and never spoke to him like royalty.

Letting out a sigh of defeat, Noctis placed the gun back in the plastic holster. He crossed his arms almost protectively against his chest, closing his eyes as though bracing himself. He seemed to debate acknowledging Prompto’s statement before sighing yet again.

“Was it really that obvious? I must look-”

Prompto interjected before his friend could finish that thought, shaking his head fervently. “No, no, don’t worry. If you’re worried about your image, _don’t_. Girls still fawn over how ‘cool’ and ‘mysterious’ you are… and asking if you’re still single. You have nothing to worry about.”

The prince in question snorted with amusement, eyes opening in a much softer expression than before as he regarded Prompto curiously. The monsters on the screen made triumphant motions, having reduced their characters to flat pixels of death, but the game was long forgotten.

“Then how is it that _you_ picked up on it?”

“You used to hide behind His Majesty’s legs when you were a kid. And not to toot my own horn, but you don’t really hang out with anyone else. If anyone is gonna be privy to your weirdness, it’s me.”

“ _Please_. If anyone’s weird, it’s you, Prompto.”  

“Says the prince that likes to wear a freakin' dog collar when nobody’s around. Well, excluding me. I can see the headlines now: ‘Exalted Heir to the Lucian Throne Lives a Double Life of Sexual Depravity… ” the blond whispered in theatrical tones, the back of his hand resting against on his forehead.

Noctis rolled his eyes, thumb rubbing idly at his currently bare neck. “It’s not necessarily sexual, I just like how it looks. Who knows what Dad would think if he saw me wearing that? I definitely couldn’t wear it at school. It’s just… it just _clicks_ somehow. y’know…?”

He trailed off, struggling to find the right words before just shrugging, cheeks still pink with embarrassment.  

The blonde simply nodded, having an idea of what his friend lacked the words to articulate. As sheltered as he knew the prince was, he very much doubted that Noctis understood, much less _acknowledged_ , the nameless yearning that compelled him to wear it. Conversely, living alone with his curiosity and father’s study full of books meant Prompto supplemented his lack of social interaction with reading about it. While Ignis might have gently guided Noctis away from more illicit reading materials, Prompto had been free to read as much as he wished about… well, everything.

Between the choice of attire and what he knew of the prince’s mental state, it wasn’t hard for Prompto to put the pieces together. His tellingly precise choice of wording - _not_ _necessarily_ , not that it wasn’t at all - was a dead giveaway. Poor Noctis couldn’t bring himself to lie.

“It’s called ‘stickin’ it to the man’, Noct. Though I gotta say, red is _so_ cliche. You guys are all about black, so why not that? Ooooh, or maybe blue, so it’ll really bring out your _dreamy_ eyes…”  

“You’re such an ass,” Noctis retorted with a laugh, giving him a light shove. But there was no bite to it, and some of the tension that had been radiating off the prince like heat eased away. Noting it with a small smile, Prompto gave him a reciprocal shove for good measure before whining dramatically that they’d lost their game…

Still smiling at the memory, Prompto jerked himself back to the present. Right. There was a reason he’d been looking through his camera in the first place.

The way his stomach fluttered whenever Noctis would meet his eyes with a languid smile disproved any delusions of artistic intentions. He’d been doomed before he even realized it. Of _course_ the pauper would end up developing a preference for proverbial champagne when he could barely scrape the pennies together for a can of gas station beer. Why go for someone accessible when you can fall for the goddamn prince?

No matter how much he took private pleasure in a woman’s figure, her smile, her dulcet tones… they weren’t _his_. Her figure was nice, but her hips didn’t narrow deliciously into tailored dress slacks like his. Her floral perfume was nice, but it couldn’t compete with the heady cologne that his friend preferred, a dark sweet scent he likened to twilight or rich wine.

More often than he would dare admit, Prompto let himself imagine dragging his mouth down his friend’s slender throat with that intoxicating scent surrounding him. He could lay claim to the prince in his mind, and he did so gladly, sucking and biting harshly at the skin to leave a rosy bloom in its wake. He’d always loved how Noctis looked in formal attire, and he looked even better in it now, necktie loosened and the first few buttons of his dress shirt popped open to expose more of his skin. The object of his attentions straddled his hips without a shred of his usual shyness, bruised lips parted and eyes half-lidded in pleasure. His friend was a sexual enigma, so he could only guess at the things he’d like. His memory enjoyed conjuring that rebellious collar from years ago, jet black and silver instead of red, contrasting so beautifully against pale skin and the ripe bruises Prompto left behind. Noctis carded slim fingers through Prompto’s hair, panting soft words of encouragement.

“Prompto…” the prince sighed, rolling his hips wantonly and earning a sharp gasp of surprise in return. It was all Prompto could do not to lose his careful self-control right there. 

“Prompto!” Notably sharper and harsher, all the lustful dreaminess gone. It sounded…. distant in a way that made no sense to the gunner at all. Noctis was right _here_.

Without warning, he felt a solid thump against his back. The blond yelped out of sheer surprise more than actual pain, nearly tumbling out of his chair and dropping his camera in the process. He instinctively reached out to prevent Noctis from falling over, only to find that his hands met nothing but air.

_Wait… What…?_

Shaking his head, he quickly realized to his chagrin that he’d gotten a bit too carried away with that particular line of thought. There was no prince grinding shamelessly into his hips, though the ache between his thighs was real enough. He looked for the source of the noise, and found that it had been Ignis, not the object of his daydreaming, that had been calling him and given him a painless thump to snap him out of it.

“Are you feeling quite alright?” the man asked, a gloved hand gently moving his chin this way and that as he surveyed the Prompto’s eyes for signs of impairment. “You don’t _seem_ to have come down with anything, but you can never be too sure with some of the things we encounter.”

Prompto rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, replying quickly, “Just zonin’ out, Iggy. Nothing to worry about.” With the prince fresh on his mind and clearly _not_ on his thighs, Prompto glanced around to find he was nowhere in sight. “Speaking of which, where _is_ Noct, anyway?”

Ignis lifted an eyebrow curiously and replied, “‘Speaking of which’? I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

 _Wait…. Fuck. Iggy_ wasn’t _talking about him. Shit, shit, shit…_

“To answer your question, he remains asleep in the tent. That certainly explains what held your interest so thoroughly that you couldn’t hear me announcing dinner.” His expression remained benign, but there was a playful lilt in his response that made Prompto’s cheeks flush.  

“He’s still zonked out?” Prompted asked, glancing at the tent where he could now see Noctis sleeping in a ball as he always did, hoarding whatever blankets he could get his hands on. It was a given that he slept far more than most, but sleeping until dusk fell was unusual even for him.

Following the gunner’s gaze, Ignis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “The crystal requires a substantial deal of one’s energy as it is, and requires that much more if it’s from a great distance. The weapons we use also tax those reserves to a degree. And we all know the chances of him actually _informing_ us when he feels overexerted."

Prompto rolled his eyes. "God forbid we 'coddle' him. Y'know, as much as he used to bitch about his dad lying about his health...."

"....he's picked up the exact same habit," Ignis finished, shaking his head. "Sometimes I wonder if that stubbornness isn't a Caelum family trait."

Prompto nodded in agreement, before involuntarily shuddering as some of the night chill settled into his bones. He glanced at the tent again, and noticed the prince also had started to shiver beneath his blankets. For someone that typically burned like a furnace to feel chilled, he must have been freezing.  

“Where’s Gladio? Didn’t he say he’d be back soon? Getting kinda chilly out here.”

Ignis returned back to the pot he’d been stirring, sampling a small bite before nodding in approval. “In lieu of his own phrasing, suffice it to say he’s currently tending to his bodily needs. The chill will expedite the process, no doubt.”

“Gotcha. Well, while you do that, I’m gonna borrow the human space heater,” Prompto replied. Ignis poured a second serving of the rice bowl, gesturing with one towards the tent.

“While you’re over there, would you mind letting him know it’s dinner?” Ignis requested. “He slept through lunch, and he can remain awake up long enough to get _something_ in his stomach.”

Prompto nodded, flashing him a thumbs-up and toothy grin before grabbing the bowls. He balanced them both on one forearm, leaving one hand free to drag down the zipper. Once he’d climbed inside, he set down the bowls to the side, careful not to spill the contents onto the ground. He made sure to close the zipper again to avoid letting more of the nighttime chill into the tent.  Prompto settled himself cross-legged next to the prince, piling a few extra blankets in the center of his lap before gently adjusting Noctis so that his head rested on the makeshift pillow. He took the last for himself, draping it around his shoulders and sighing happily as the warmth of the cloth and body heat slowly started to thaw out the chill.

A few silky strands of Noctis’s hair brushed against his arm, and not for the first time, Prompto found himself unable to tear his eyes away. He was…. well, he was beautiful, relaxed and content in a way that left a sweet kind of ache in Prompto’s chest. He was  _right here_ , so close that he could run his hands through those soft strands. Permitting himself one temptation, he did just that, and was rewarded with Noctis making a pleased sound.

“Smell… s... li… ke home….” the prince mumbled with a sleepy smile, burying his nose deeper into the fabric of Prompto’s shirt.  

It scared him, how immediately and intensely the feeling overwhelmed him: _I don’t want anybody to hurt him. I’d give anything to let him stay like this, to forget everything, for just a bit longer._

Prompto noticed that his friend had dark shadows under his eyes, which made a lead weight drop in his stomach. They saw one another every day, so it made sense that he’d miss a gradual change… but still, why hadn’t he noticed sooner? He couldn’t help but worry at how long it’d taken him to realize, or what else they all had overlooked. Without thinking, he traced the darkened skin gently with the pads of his fingers, as if he could just will away the exhaustion that’d caused them. He started noticing other details - the pallor of his skin, nail beds raw and inflamed (a telltale sign of his nervous habit of picking at them under stress), the marble outline of his spine just visible beneath his favored black shirt.

Now that he thought about it, how often had he observed the prince just pushing around and poking his food before making a face and shoving it away? He’d known Noctis long enough to know that his appetite was the first to go when he was under stress. Ignis tended to prepare more to Noctis’s tastes rather than his health during such times to ensure that, given his picky eating, he at least had _something_ in his stomach. Prompto wafted the steam towards himself, sniffing a few times. It was the savory rice bowl Ignis had created in Lestallum - one of the prince’s favorite dishes.

Ignis had noticed, too.

Prompto gave his friend a gentle shake on the shoulder, earning him an incoherent mumble in protest. Unrelenting, Prompto gave his shoulder another shake - a bit firmer this time - and whispered, “Gotta get up buddy. It’s dinner - don’t want all Iggy’s hard work to get cold, do you?”

Noctis blinked slowly, trying to orient himself after a borderline comatose nap. Prompto realized a bit belatedly that he still had his other hand threaded through Noctis’s hair, and he wasn’t sure how happy Noctis would feel knowing he had his head in his friend’s lap.

The prince let out a huge yawn, stretching his limbs as much as the confines of the tent allowed before settling back into his habitual ball - he made no motion that he wanted to move. When Prompto started to readjusted himself to let Noctis sit up, he was shocked when he felt icy fingers around his wrist, gently guiding his hand back to the top of his head.

“You can still do that if you want. Felt nice,” Noctis purred, voice still thick with the vestiges of sleep. He pressed his head into Prompto’s hand more firmly, humming happily and burrowing further into Prompto’s stomach when the blonde resumed threading his hands through the other’s hair.

“H-How long’ve you been awake?” Prompto asked nervously. The tendrils of embarrassment were winding their way around his stomach, and he started to regret coming in here. It was one thing if Noctis felt it was a purely platonic gesture, but would he still feel the same if he knew the kinds of thoughts that ran through Prompto’s head?

Noctis yawned, covering his mouth with his hand.  “I dunno. I was comfortable and you make a good pillow. Saw no point in moving if I didn’t have to.”

“I wouldn’t bug you if I I didn’t have a proper bribe,” the gunner responded, gesturing towards the rice bowls. Noctis eyed them with interest, and as if to underscore it, his stomach growled loud enough that even Prompto heard.

“The royal cave has spoken. Though I guess I can’t eat like this.”

“Nope,” Prompto replied, before adding with an impish grin, “Unless you want me to spoon-feed you.”

“Think I’ll pass. I’m _tired_ , not catatonic.”

Prompto reached over to the side, grabbing the hearty rice bowl and waiting until Noctis had situated himself upright before handing him the dish. Noctis held the bowl to his face and breathed deeply, making an appreciative sound. He mixed the meat and eggs together before shoveling a heaping spoonful in his mouth.

“Gotta say, pal, with you there’s not that much of a difference between those two.”

Noctis simply flipped Prompto the middle finger with his unoccupied hand, mouth too full of food to respond.

To their side, they heard the sound of the zipper being dragged down further, and Gladio carefully stepped inside the confines of the tent.

“Colder than Shiva’s tits outside,” he complained, grabbing one of the blankets from between Prompto’s legs in a flash. The blonde jumped a bit at the sudden intrusion.

“At least buy me dinner first,” he blurted out, to which Gladio barked out a laugh, settling himself next to the prince. Predictably, Noctis took the chance to press his body against the larger man to soak up some of his body heat.

Prompto tried to ignore the jolt of jealousy that ran through him. He didn’t own Noctis, and it wasn’t like he didn’t understand the appeal. If Noctis was a human space heater, Gladio was a goddamned furnace.

As this thought ran through his head, he noticed the last of the group crawling into the confines of the tent. Elegant as always, Ignis had the last two bowls of dinner balanced on one arm as he slinked through the opening. He held out his arm, offering Gladio a plate, before closing the zipper behind him. It was a tight squeeze, but far more comfortable and warm than being outside.

“Not the most spacious dinner we’ve had, though I hope the meal itself is enough to compensate,” Ignis said apologetically, “The weather reports _had_ warned about cool weather, though I’m inclined to assume now that their definition of ‘cool’ would be closer to ‘tundra’.”

“Yeah, or those folks in Lestallum considering ‘second circle of hell’ to be ‘a bit warm’,” Prompto added. “Seriously, I felt like melting ice cream or something.”

“Though perhaps not as appetizing.” 

"Depending on who you ask, _creme de la Prompto_ might taste pretty good,” Noctis replied lightly, turning beet-red seconds later as the implications of his comment hit him.

Not missing a beat, Ignis replied, “Some find the.... ah, _cream_ that humans provide to be exceptional, though it’s a taste one generally has to develop a liking towards. It’s sometimes a bit bitter - I’m not so sure it would suit your palette, Noct.”

Slack-jawed and blushing to the roots of his hair, Noctis stared at Ignis as though he’d grown a second head. Gladio took one look at the prince’s face and burst out into laughter, while Prompto tried not to imagine in painstaking detail how his friend would acquire a mouthful of… _cream_ in the first place. And he was definitely trying _not_ to imagine how Noctis would look with his lips parted, eyes hazy with lust...

“I think you broke them, Iggy,” Gladio chuckled. Ignis sipped at his tea with his typical elegant nonchalance, emerald eyes crinkled in amusement.

Noctis cleared his throat and stated with as much dignity as he could muster, “You’re the one that always tells me to never knock something until I try it, right?”

Taking another sip of his tea, Ignis glanced over the rim of his cup and asked, “I wasn’t aware you were open to such things. I'll admit that leaves me with more than a few questions, as you _are_ engaged.”

“Okay…? What about it?”

“Engaged to a _Lady_ Lunafreya.”

“Yeah…? What does that have to do with anything?”

Ignis put a finger to his chin, clearly trying to phrase his words carefully. “Given the nature of your betrothal, I was curious if you were… well, if you were actually _attracted_ to Lady Lunafreya.”

To the shock of everyone in the tent, Noctis burst into cackling laughter as if the advisor had just delivered a gut-splitting punchline. Even Prompto, who had been listening to the conversation with more interest than he cared to admit, found himself stunned at his friend’s reaction. Ignis seemed to be the only one that was more or less unsurprised by this reaction, merely tilting his head and regarded the prince thoughtfully.

Gladio was the first to recover and he said with a sigh, “Poor Luna.”

The prince waved his hand dismissively, taking another spoonful of rice before continuing. “It’s an arranged marriage, it doesn’t require me to want her… like that.” He grimaced a bit at the last words, as though the very idea made him feel a bit ill.

Ignis noticed this, and remarked, “You act as though the idea of sex _itself_ is distasteful. Or is just with Luna that you find it unappealing?”

Noctis seemed to be exceedingly focused on picking out the chicken from his rice, his cheeks once again starting to turn scarlet. He was clearly not used to having this type of conversation. Noctis had always been remarkably uninterested in discussing the topic of his marriage, though until now, Prompto had always assumed it was because it was an _arranged_ marriage, least of all a political arranged marriage to unite enemy nations. He’d never thought the lack of enthusiasm could be attributed to something more personal.

“I don’t… I can’t say…” Noctis bit his lip, trying to find the words and becoming frustrated when they wouldn’t come out the way he wanted them to. “I mean… Luna’s beautiful, I know that. She’s been one of my best friends since we were kids. But… well, I dunno, sylleblossoms are beautiful, too. The moon and stars are beautiful. Luna falls into the same category - I like her well enough, but I’ve never thought of her the way a groom probably should. It’s an arranged marriage, so it’s not like you’re really expected to anyway.”

Prompto felt a pang of pity at that. The way the prince just said it so matter-of-factly made it clear that he had more or less accepted that he didn’t have a choice in the matter. Still, he couldn’t help but blurt out, “But what about Luna? How does she feel about all this? I can’t imagine how that must be...."

Noctis chuckled, lips curling into a wistful smile. “Oh, she’s known how I am since we were still kids. She asked me in that polite Tenebrae way of hers, like she knew it was something I was scared to examine. She even had a name for it, which I sure as hell never learned from the tutors. Everyone assumes we get along because the ‘True King’ and ‘Oracle’ were _destined_ to cooperate” - punctuated with a roll of the eyes - “but to me, she’s just a friend I met in Tenebrae after that daemon attacked me. She’s a dork that’s obsessed with stickers and covered in dog hair ‘cause she can’t see white fur on white cloth. She’s never been anything more or less to me than that. We suit each other _because_ we don’t suit each other at all. It’d be a nightmare otherwise.”

Gladio blinked and asked nonplussed, “Wait a minute. Are you saying-?”

“We’ve both joked that we need some mouthwash on hand after the wedding kiss,” Noctis supplemented. “Dad… he once made a remark….” His mirth visibly dimmed a bit as he mentioned his father, voice shaking a bit he tried to rein in the fresh grief welling at the back of his throat. “He told me he’d get me something to clean the taste out of my mouth, immediately after he told me about the deal between Insomnia and Niflheim. Y'know, that was the first time he’d ever hinted that he _knew_ something. Yet thinking back, I can't help but think that he seemed so disappointed... disappointed with _me_.”

Ignis shook his head, consoling him with a gentle tone, “Do you know that he asked me if I could find you one that tasted like fruit, since you both hate using minty flavors? For what it’s worth, Noct, I assure you that he was quite aware that you would have always preferred a prince, and that his daughter-in-law favored the fairer sex. He’d suspected such for some time, especially as high school came and went. He even had an idea of _who_ you fancied for some years, though he felt asking would no doubt embarrass you. If he _was_ disappointed, it was merely because he wished he had a chance to reassure you that you had nothing to fear. He only ever wished for your happiness.”

Smiling weakly, Noctis asked, “He even had an idea of who I liked, did he?”

“He and I both had our assumptions for some time. A moment of drunken candor on your part only served to give evidence to our suspicions. I must say, you would have shamed the laureates that night - you virtually waxed poetic about the many virtues of your beloved.”

The prince’s face paled, spoon dropping from his hand and landing in the rice bowl with a loud _splat_. “I-I got drunk and fucking _told him_?”

“Well, it _is_ called ‘liquid courage’ for a reason. While he was no doubt amused by your uncharacteristic openness, he felt it was kinder to feign ignorance and let you tell him when you were sober and lucid.”

Noctis groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “Remind me to never drink around you again.”

While Noctis stewed in his own embarrassment, Prompto’s head was whirling as he desperately tried to digest everything.

 _Noct isn’t straight, Noct isn’t straight, Noct swings the same way!_ For the first time in ages, a glimmer of hope fluttered in his chest...

_-and he already likes someone else. He’s apparently liked this person for some time. Not only that, but His Majesty and Iggy both knew about it._

That bloom of hope quickly curled upon itself like paper held to a flame.

 _Lucky bastard’s probably a handsome noble. Why settle for less if you’re the prince? What chance did I_ ever _have against that?_

Prompto set his bowl down in front of him, lump rising in his throat and all traces of his appetite effectively gone. But ever the royal jester, he carefully maintained the friendly look of interest from before. A proper jester blinked away the moisture from their eyes and ignored the way their heart felt as though it were cracking in their chest.

“The circumstances should indicate that while he might not have understood why you were drawn to this person, he did not _disapprove_ nor wish to keep you away from him,” Ignis finished with the same gentle tone as before. “Bear in mind that I have been at your side since we were both children; I’ve observed how you interact with people for some time. In my eyes, this person has been nothing but positive for you, so rest assured I have no objections either.”

“Do I _know_ this person? If you’ve known this person since high school… wouldn’t I have picked up on it by now?” Prompto questioned him cautiously, unable to keep the traces of hurt from his voice. Even though the prince would never haves eyes for him, he couldn’t help but feel rather wounded that Noctis had kept it from him for this long. “I wouldn’t have judged you if you’d told me, dude.”

To Prompto’s puzzlement, this simple statement elicited very different reactions. Ignis’s lips curled into an impish smile, tinted in the same playfulness from when he’d teased Prompto for being distracted by thoughts of the prince.

Conversely, Noctis froze as though someone had ripped open the curtain mid-shower. His mouth opened and closed like a dying fish before finally responding.

“Y-You do… _know_ this  person. Don’t think it would change anything, though. I’m fairly sure he would be disgusted.”

Despite himself, Prompto’s cracking heart ached with sympathy. Noctis clearly didn’t see himself the way others did. Prompto couldn’t imagine the prince approaching someone in his typical manner - exuding false confidence to mask the endearing tremor of his hands and voice - only for the recipient finding the display to be _disgusting_.

“Nothing about you is disgusting. If you get the balls to confess and that’s all the dude has to say, he doesn’t deserve you,” Prompto countered. “I’ll personally pay him a visit and kick his ass.”

Again, Noctis’s reaction was not what Prompto expected. He’d anticipated that shy half-smile Noctis often gave him before teasing him for his bravado, which was the typical script when Prompto was tasked with getting Noctis out of one of his dark moods. Instead, Noctis blinked a few times in surprise and stammered, “I-I appreciate that,” the flush returning to his face once more.

Gladio glanced back and forth between Noctis and Prompto, brows furrowing in contemplation. After a moment of this, his amber eyes suddenly widened - Prompto could almost see the proverbial light bulb illuminate over his head as _something_ seemed to click.

He leaned over to to Ignis and murmuring something into his ear that Prompto couldn’t hear. Ignis nodded with a wry smile, to which Gladio merely responded with a long-suffering sigh, “Of fucking course. That sure as hell explains why he had such a hard time focusing during training.”

He nudged Noctis with his elbow, laughing heartily when Noctis grumbled a half-hearted “fuck you” and crossed his arms like a petulant child. He seemed torn between relief and humiliation, though the shadow of a smile on his lips made it clear which emotion ultimately won out.  

“Awwww, c’mon. You can’t keep me in the dark! Secrets, secrets are no fun~” Prompto quipped sing-song, which only caused the older men to burst into laughter anew. He forced himself to keep the smile stitched tightly, knowing that his tone would hide the shake of his voice. His encouragement was emotional masochism, he knew - he might as well have handed them each a knife and pointed to his heart, instructing them where to stab.  

“I think we’ve had enough amusement at the prince’s expense for one night,” Ignis remarked with a tone that brooked no room for argument. “We have several hunts that need to be completed, so we need to be well-rested and in top form.” 

“Right,” the rest agreed. They zipped open the tent briefly to deposit the bowls along the perimeter, then oriented themselves in a way that ensured everyone was warmed and had proper coverage.

Noctis usually went towards the best source of heat, so Prompto was surprised when he felt arms snake around his waist and head coming to rest against his chest with a happy hum of contentment.

Prompto wasn’t sure if he felt blessed or if the gods were playing a very cruel joke.

Having glanced at the amount of food remaining in Noctis’ bowl, Ignis paused before asking reluctantly, “Noct… Did you not enjoy dinner? I couldn’t help but notice that you hardly touched it.”

Noctis shook his head and replied apologetically, “There’s nothing wrong with the food. I’m just… my appetite isn’t… really there so much these days. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Ignis consoled him, putting his glasses to the side before settling himself into the blankets further. “I just…. I _worry_ , Noct. We all do. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that you have _three_ of us here to help you. Remember that a king does not rule alone - this burden is not one you need to bear on your own.”

“‘I know,” the prince sighed. “It’s just a lot to get used to, and something I don’t exactly have the luxury to forget about. But I don’t need you to worry yourselves over it, or over me. This-” he tightened his arms around Prompto in a gesture somewhere between a squeeze and a hug “-is good enough for me.”

“Well, duh, I give the best hugs out of all of us,” Prompto joked, hiding the tremor of his voice with a laugh. “But am I gonna be warm enough for ya, buddy?” Noctis nuzzled into his chest like a cat, movements already growing sluggish as sleep claimed him quickly. Good thing, too, because Prompto hoped to gods Noctis wouldn’t feel the way his heart thundered in his chest.

“You’re plenty warm, Prom.”

“What the prince wants, the prince gets,” Gladio’s gruff voice chimed in. “You’ve been designated as his highness’s heat source for the night.”

Noctis rubbed Prompto lightly on the back, face soft with that goofy, sleepy smile that Prompto had grown to love so much. “He’s jus’ jealous ‘cause yer my fav’rite pillow,” he slurred.

“Am I now?” Prompto teased, brushing away a raven strand of hair that hand fallen into his face.

Noctis made a tired sound of agreement, unconsciously leaning into Prompo’s touch. He took that as his cue to resume his earlier ritual of combing his hands slowly through his friend’s hair. Prompto was rewarded with feeling how Noctis’s entire body practically melt against him with relaxation, breathing gradually slowing into the steady rhythm of sleep.

With the prince soft and warm against him, Prompto couldn’t resist as his eyelids became increasingly heavy, or the slow but welcoming pull into the depths of slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fell into this fandom... _hard_. I knew before the game came out that I was probably going to ship Prompto and Noctis, and needless to say, the content of the game did not disappoint. It ripped my soul in two, which means that - like most people - I turn to fan fic to soothe it. 
> 
> In my opinion, I feel like Noctis would be the type that would _very_ much enjoy being a submissive. He has a huge position of power and lots of responsibility, so to me, it seems like he would find submission in a particular context to be a huge source of relief. Conversely, I think Prompto would relish the idea of having one place where he can be absolutely dominant, and have a claim to the prince that nobody else would dare. That idea sparked.... whatever the hell this will end up being. The first chapter ended up running away from me, which is how it ended up being fourteen pages before I was like, "OKAY THIS HAS TO CUT OFF SOMEWHERE." 
> 
> I'll eventually earn it an E-rating, but to make it feel more "natural" within the context of the game, they have to establish that they like each other to begin with. [shrug] I'm all about that slow burn, y'all. 
> 
> I'll admit that I have a general outline of what I want to happen when, but a precise chapter count? A concrete outline? Not really. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I work full-time and I'm in my last year of university, so I can't promise I'm going to update once a week or anything like that. (Sorry!) But this idea wouldn't leave me alone, and I really like where it's going in my head. So with all that said, I'm open to ideas or what have you if anyone has something they're interested in. Let me know what you love, loathe, whatevs~. Thank you for taking the time to read my self-indulgent (eventually) kinky fic. :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The minutiae of Noctis’ gestures was like a second language, and until the past few weeks, Prompto thought he’d been fluent in it. Now, it felt as though the prince were speaking a different dialect. Nothing about the way he reacted to the blond made any sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT, YOU GUYS. I honestly did not intend to have this long of a gap between chapters! D: Suffice it to say that this semester ended up kicking my ass in a way I did not anticipate when I started writing this story. Between two research projects for two different psych courses.... well. If I never have to work in SPSS ever again, it'll be too soon. But yay, maybe I'll finally get my degree by the end of 2017. I'll also confess that I don't tend to write more than one-shot things, so I also stressed myself out with "oh god what if I can't do it" and all that. 
> 
> BUT. I MANAGED IT ANYWAY. I hope it was worth even a sliver of the wait.... if anyone is still interested in this thing, haha. 
> 
> **Trigger warning for homophobic language and brief mentions of eating disorders**. The former is used in a context where it should be abundantly clear that using these words is not okay, but in case that might potentially upset someone, I'm putting it out there.

In a most welcome change from the usual shrill alarm, it was the scent of fresh bacon and gentle hiss of the grill that gently broke the surface of Prompto’s slumber the following morning. 

_Could definitely get used to this._

Prompto stretched his limbs to shake the vestiges of sleep from them, or at least, as much as he could manage without hitting Gladio or Noctis in the process - given his pleasant wake-up, he already knew that Ignis had been out of bed for some time. Next to him, Noctis made a noise of displeasure at the loss of warmth, fingers clinging stubbornly to Prompto’s shirt. Prompto grabbed his share of blankets and tucked them around Noctis with more care than was strictly necessary, hoping that the lingering warmth of his body heat would suffice for now. 

Slipping through the zippered opening, Prompto spotted Ignis turning over thick-cut pieces of bread on the grill with tongs; leave it to Ignis to make something as simple as toast into a meal fit for royalty. There was also a small plate of bacon on the table next to it, a grease-spotted paper towel laid across the strips to soak up excess oil and retain heat. 

Prompto sniffed loudly, more to grab Ignis’s attention than anything else. 

“Mmmmm…. something smells good, Iggy,” he remarked by way of greeting. 

Ignis raised his tongs in acknowledgement, glancing over his shoulder before returning his focus to the grill. “Morning,” Ignis replied with a chipper lilt. “I figured a light breakfast would be better suited for all the running about we’ll be doing later on.” 

Prompto swiped a piece of bacon from the plate, asking between bites, “Yeah, you’d mentioned that we had a big hunt today. So what is it? A behemoth? Some necromancers?” 

“Wolves,” the advisor answered simply. He shaved a slice of butter from the container, spreading it on the toast before adding a slice of bacon on the top. 

“Jus werls?” the blonde blurted out, spraying tiny bits of bacon everywhere. 

Ignis shot him a mildly reproachful glance. “Ask again when you don’t have a mouth full of food.” 

Swallowing his food, Prompto cleared his throat and repeated, “Just wolves? You made it sound like some big deal. We just bag a bunch of ‘em and collect our money, right?” The way Ignis had discussed it the night before, it sounded more like a four-star bounty than their typical pay-by-the-pound wolf hunts. 

“The report states that these wolves are more cunning than the usual ones we encounter, with intellect that borders on the kind one encounters with higher daemons. The hunt might turn out to be entirely unremarkable, but considering that it was Dave who gave me the details, I would consider it wise to give credence to his warning.” 

Prompto took another bite, chewing much more slowly this time as he similarly chewed over this new piece of information. “Dude’s got balls of steel, he doesn’t get spooked by much.” 

“Indeed.” Ignis finished off the last of his breakfast, wandering over to the cooler near the camp perimeter. He slid open the top and rummaged around the ice, brows scrunching in dismay the longer he searched. Knowing the advisor as well as he did, Prompto could take a guess at what caused such a rare look of distress. 

“Ran outta Ebony yesterday,” Prompto reminded him. “We kept bugging you to go to the convenience store for a reason, y’know.” 

“You kept bugging him about an emergency ration of chips,” a sleepy drawl chimed in. “You didn’t say shit about coffee.” 

Glancing towards the source of the voice, Prompto observed Noctis more or less stumbling out of the tent, blanket draped around his shoulders. The prince clearly hadn’t emerged fully into the land of the living, if the bleary way he kept blinking was any indication. He lazily scratched at his stomach, causing the fabric to ride up and expose a delicious sliver of skin. Prompto tried to ignore the way his mouth went dry at the display, instead taking a bigger bite of his breakfast than necessary to distract himself and force his attention elsewhere.

“It so happens such a location is en route to the location of our hunt,” Ignis suggested, his light tone of voice at odds with the look of dismay from earlier. “Bottled water will suffice for now, I suppose.” 

Looking towards the advisor, Prompto quickly figured out why with a flush of embarrassment: he was no longer perusing the cooler, but instead studying the blonde with a scrutiny usually reserved for reviewing royal documents. He shifted his gaze pointedly towards the prince before meeting Prompto’s eyes once more, to which Prompto debated before giving a shrug in response - at this point, it seemed fruitless to lie. This was the second time in as many days that Ignis had caught the blonde lusting after Noctis, and twice now that he only responded with that ghost of a smile. Indeed, Ignis seemed bizarrely _amused_ by it, which Prompto couldn’t make heads or tails of given the nature of their conversation the night before. 

Noctis shuffled over to one of the folding chairs next to Prompto, drawing his legs towards his chest and resting his chin on his knees as he cocooned himself further into the blankets. In the brightness of daylight, the contrast in the pallor of his skin with the shadows beneath his eyes seemed that much more apparent. What struck Prompto most was his eye color - rather than rich sapphire, it was closer to the pale hue of a cloudless sky, as if the color had been drained out. It gave the gunner pause - were his eyes _always_ that pale? Was it a trick of the light? 

Without thinking, he closed the distance between them and sat on the ground next to Noctis to get a closer look. Curling a finger gently under Noctis’ chin, Prompto guided him to look upwards and bring more of his features into the daylight - the prince’s lips parted in a soft breath of surprise, but he was otherwise compliant and remained still. 

It was just as Prompto had thought - his friend’s eyes _were_ lighter, which seemed to make the shadows beneath them all the more concerning…. though on Noctis, it was bizarrely attractive. A part of him couldn’t help but feel guilty that as ill as his friend seemed to be, there was a beauty in his fragility that was mesmerizing. It whispered to the shadowed corner of his mind that had been so fascinated by the collar around that slender neck so many years ago, that now felt a quiet thrill at the unconscious obedience Noctis displayed under his scrutiny. He didn’t like his friend being unwell but he found that those rare tastes of vulnerability, obedience, of trust to be a decidedly delicious thing, particularly because of the way Noctis seemed to savor the smallest of touches like a parched man offered water. 

Prompto noticed how close his thumb was to the prince’s lips, petal pink and parted ever so slightly. Perhaps it was Noctis’ docility that lent him the courage, but he found himself giving in to the temptation to run the pad of his thumb lightly along the slightly chapped surface and earning a delightful little shiver in response. The rest of his hand followed, gently cupping the prince’s jawline and relishing in the way Noctis leaned into his palm. He tore his hungry gaze from those lips and instead found his friend regarding him with lidded eyes, burning with such unguarded curiosity that it sent a thrill of lust down his spine. It was eerily close to the vision of Noctis in his dreams, beautifully docile and hanging on his every word...

“P-Prom, I….” 

With that, it hit Prompto just what he was doing. Noctis was engaged to a princess, he was in love with another man - and here the pleb was, touching and fantasizing about him with the familiarity of a lover. While Prompto didn’t hear a tone of admonition in Noct’s words just yet, he could only imagine the polite refusal that the prince was struggling to vocalize. 

He found himself mirroring the same softness in his tone, a part of him afraid speaking louder would break the spell. “Your eyes are much lighter than before. I’m not sure if I’m just imagining it or….” 

Noctis blinked a few times, as though he’d been ripped from a dream, before his gaze flitted downward and refused to rise again - a gesture that Prompto had learned signified deep humiliation. He pull himself from Prompto’s hand, tucking his chin on his knees once more and closing his eyes in thought. Sighing quietly, he cleared his throat before responding, “Y-You’re not. My dad said it was due to our magic.”

Prompto sat back in his own chair, still mentally reeling as he tried to process what had made Noctis go from that soft, dreamy being to closing himself off in his chair so quickly. Running a trembling hand through honey-gold locks, Prompto tried to calm his racing heart and focused on the current topic at hand. 

“I used to joke with Noctis that his eyes were more reliable than those cheap mood rings,” Ignis chimed in, and Prompto nearly jumped out of his skin. Oh sweet Shiva, how much of that previous exchange had Ignis been witness to? If nothing else, he’d definitely caught the tail end of it. 

“A-are they now?” Prompto joked, forcing a laugh out. No, he had definitely not been admiring the prince _yet again_ or touching him far too intimately for what should have been strictly platonic concern.

“Oh, most certainly. Dark hair, and blue eyes that change with the influence of magic or the state of the host - all hallmarks of the royal bloodline. Every Lucian heir must undergo certain training to ensure that they do not give away with their eyes what they mean to hide with words.” 

Despite himself, Prompto found himself intrigued. He’d only ever seen Noctis change his eyes to that vibrant red when he was summoning the aid of the Astrals - he had never entertained the idea that other circumstances could affect him in an equally visible way. 

Ticking off each item on a finger, Ignis recited the list in a way that suggested that he had memorized and bore witness to them all. “Normal blue indicates all is as it should be. Red, as you’ve no doubt witnessed, is when he taps into the power of the gods or crystal. Light blue indicates pain and exhaustion.” He cast a sad smile to Noctis, who remained curled upon himself on the chair. “Violet, as I understand, indicates-”

“-nothing that needs to be discussed,” the prince snapped from his blanketed ball. 

Ignis fixed Noctis with a decidedly unimpressed glare. “Prompto is asking out of concern for your welfare. I’m fairly sure he will need to be privy to it since you’re clearly too stubborn to tell us yourself when you’re doing this poorly.”

“I’m not doing poorly,” Noctis retorted. “I’m just tired and I have a lot going on.” 

“It is far more than that, and we both know it.” 

“I don’t have the luxury to sit there bitching about my feelings in some attempt to make it better. I can talk about how much I miss my dad. That doesn’t change the fact that he was murdered and that wishes don’t bring back the dead. I could whine about that I just want to go back home and miss the city, but said home is still a pile of ashes and rubble. I could bitch about how shitty it feels to love someone when you don’t even register on their radar, but I can’t just force them to change how they are. Complaining about the circumstances doesn’t change them - it’s just a waste of time.”

The advisor’s sharp glare softened into a more contemplative expression. “Time is a luxury none of us have. But we can help shoulder your burdens however we can. Even if we unable to change the situation, sometimes merely _discussing_ it relieves the weight of it on your soul. Secrets and shame-” 

“-make you sick,” the prince replied, and to his relief, Prompto could hear the beginnings of a smile in his voice. “Gods know you know most of mine.” 

“And I’m honored that you would entrust them to me. However, I would argue that I’m not the one that should know the ones causing you the most stress.” 

“What do you mean, ‘ones’?”

“The object of your affections, and the additional shame that would compel you to keep your particular inclinations to yourself. Dual sources of shame, so I would imagine you’re all the more inclined to remain silent lest one secret unveil another.” 

“I have no idea what you mean by…. _inclinations_ ,” Noctis replied with an indignant huff. Prompto almost chuckled despite himself - _the lad doth protest too much, me thinks._ The word held the exaggerated distaste of a priest that carried out his vices behind closed doors. However, Prompto dared not assume that such a loaded word had the same meaning for the naive prince as it did for him. Glancing over, he saw Ignis adjust his glasses - more of a nervous tic than anything as he picked his words with care.

“Keep in mind that I cleaned your room many times, so spare me the disservice of claiming that I’m inaccurate in my assessment. Given your royal position, I would imagine such things would be seen as unbefitting a king. However, rest assured that it is nothing to be ashamed of, despite your personal insistence.” 

Noctis answered by attempting to make himself even smaller in his chair - an endearing gesture that Prompto had dubbed his “shame cube”, as the prince had a peculiar habit of trying to shrink or hide himself when embarrassed. Clearly, Ignis had hit on the mark. 

“Violet... is the weirdest one of the bunch,” the prince admitted with a sigh, face remaining burrowed in the blanket pile. “It’s like…. I dunno, like a bit of magic accidentally leaks in or something. Blue and red equal purple, so I guess that’s the reason. It’s not intentional.”

“I think it’s fair to say that you never do it intentionally,” Prompto reminded him. Noctis was stalling for time. “So is violet another bad one for-”

“It’s not a bad one,” Noctis cut in, peeking up from his blanket. He met Prompto’s inquisitive eyes with a sheepish shadow of a smile, and the gunner noticed that his cheeks, once worryingly pale, had turned the slightest bit pink. 

Prompto tilted his head curiously, tapping a finger against his chin as he thought on this. “Sooooo…. It means... what? That you’re happy?” 

“Ummm.... that’s one way of putting it, sure.”

“What the hell, Noct? That’s such a non-answer.”

A grunt of a yawn interrupted Prompto’s inquiry. The last to awaken, Gladio was slinking out of the tent with far more grace than anyone had a right to possess this early in the morning. Gladio’s gaze shifted around the camp as his nostrils worked furiously, trying to find the source of the appetizing smell filling the camp. He zeroed in on the bacon, loading the last of the slices on his own plate with a slab of toast. He hacked off a considerable chunk of butter, spreading it haphazardly on the slice before putting it on the grill once more to melt. 

“I already buttered it,” Ignis stated with a frown, eyeing the bread distastefully as it shimmered with grease in the morning sun. “You could probably see your reflection in it now.” Unperturbed, Gladio flashed the advisor a cocky smile as he rolled his arms in measured circles, squeezing in a few quick morning stretches as his bread warmed up. 

Prompto had seen Gladio do his stretches every day, and he always appreciated the unusual beauty of it. Artistically inclined as he was, the way in which he admired Gladio’s physique was the way a student of one discipline appreciated the craftsmanship of another. Indeed, it’d taken a lot of introspection and confusion to realize that the way he looked at Gladio was worlds apart from the more intimate way he admired Noctis, despite both being men. The subtle shifting of powerful muscles beneath the delicate linework of ebony wings was almost poetic in its contrast, like an elegant bird of prey ready to take flight. This morning, though, it felt as though this particular instance was especially noteworthy. It took his breath away with that peculiar, telling sense of giddiness filling his chest. 

_I want the others to see what I see. Make sure it doesn’t slip away._

Though insecurity so often made him question if he was just being overly sentimental, he’d been a photographer long enough to have learned to never ignore that gut feeling. Swiping the camera from his bag, Prompto quickly captured the moment before it ran away from him. 

_Click._

Gladio blinked towards the sound of the camera, surprise clear on his face. Noctis had looked up from his blanket at the sound as well, glancing at Prompto and his camera, and then back at Gladio. His jaw dropped for a moment with bewilderment, before quickly going into a tight line as a small crease formed on his brow. His expression remained largely neutral, but for someone that had spent as long as Prompto had studying his expressions, it was like watching small cracks form on a Noh mask. The prince looked distinctly upset over…. what? Prompto taking a picture, something he’d always done?

It was utterly confusing. He’d known Noctis for years, and had prided himself in learning the subtleties behind his restrained expressions. Prompto knew that a grimace with a slight frown meant something entirely different than a grimace paired with a inhibitory lip bite, that his methods of handling the situation depended on whether his friend clenched his fist at his side or stuffed his hands in his pockets. The minutiae of Noctis’ gestures was like a second language, and until the past few weeks, Prompto thought he’d been fluent in it. Now, it felt as though the prince were speaking a different dialect. Nothing about the way he reacted to the blond made any sense. 

He made a mental note to himself to ask Ignis what the hell was going on, next time the two of them had a moment out of earshot from Noctis. It wasn’t as if Ignis wasn’t already aware that Prompto harbored feelings towards his charge. 

_Oh, I bet he’ll just love that. “Ignis, I know we have all this shit going on with the Crystal and Royal Arms and the Niffs, but I have a big gay crush on the prince and I have no clue what half of his reactions mean anymore. I know that this is the last thing that we need on top of everything else, but I can’t handle having to second-guess everything that Noctis does and wonder who the hell he’s so crazy over.”_

Scratch that - he was probably better off not asking at all. 

Clearing his throat, Ignis announced to the rest of the group, “Have we all had breakfast? If that’s set, then I think we should be heading out to get this hunt taken care of.” 

Prompto glanced at Noctis, still curled in a ball, whose plate laid on the ground in front of him. He’d taken maybe a few bites of his toast, but the bacon remained untouched. Considering how little Noctis had eaten the night before, and how he seemed to wear his sickness on his skin these days, it made a pit form in Prompto’s stomach. He hadn’t expected their discussion the night before to fix everything instantly, but…

“You sure you had enough to eat, Noct?” Prompto asked, unable to fully mask the concern in his voice. “Ignis wanted us to eat light, but pretty sure air and bread don't count as a meal-” 

“I’m _fine_ ,” the prince snapped in a tight voice, crawling out of his blanketed cocoon and shaking out the last remnants of sleep from his limbs. The weariness in his tone made it distinctly clear he was anything but fine, but he obviously was in no mood to discuss it further. 

He met Prompto’s worried gaze with what he probably imagined was a determined, confident expression… but the exhaustion written plain across his washed-out skin and icy eyes made the display more pathetic than anything else. As he did his stretches, his shirt seemed to hang off his thinning frame like a sail. Prompto remembered too clearly feeling the ridges of the prince’s spine beneath his fingers, and he found the frown on his lips deepening as he took in yet another worrying detail. 

_When’s the last time he looked in a mirror? He looks anything_ but _fine._

As if reading Prompto’s thoughts, Gladio retorted, “No offense, your Highness, but you look like shit.” The typical gruffness of his voice masked the underlying current of concern. “I’d feel a lot better if you hung back and let us handle this one. You’re too stressed to think straight, and it’s going to start affecting your fighting-” 

“I. Am. _Fine_.” Each word was clipped, like biting off chunks of a carrot. “Would you give a rest already? I can handle a stupid hunt. If you’re gonna be a smartass and start calling me me ‘highness’, then how about acting like that word actually _means_ anything to you? I told you I’m fine. I’d appreciate if you stop questioning me on it.” 

Gladio stared at Noctis silently for a few moments, caught between shock and fury at the prince’s remark. However, there was a sense of desperation in those sunken eyes that tugged at Gladio’s emotions - the rage that had flared up at his prince’s words visibly cooled into equal parts pity and frustration. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he spat out, “I’m sure Cor will understand that I was only following orders when I end up carrying you home in a goddamn _body bag_.” 

Gladio took a deep breath, calming himself further, and added quietly, “You’re too stubborn to let people help you, so we’re stuck there wondering when you’re finally going to break. Not ‘if’, but ‘when’. You have to understand how unfair that is, Noct.” 

“The only thing that’s gonna break are some wolf skulls,” Noctis reassured him, pounding his fist into his palm and mirroring the cocky grin Gladio had flashed Ignis earlier. “I was trained by the best. Now, are we gonna get some hunting done or not?” 

\-------

As promised, the group made a quick stop at a convenience store on the way to the hunt destination. Prompto came out of the store with an armful of chips and a crate of Ebony to restock the cooler. The advisor enjoyed it slowly as he always did, taking a few reverent sips at a time as they drove down the largely empty road. They were fortunate enough to avoid detection from imperial ships, their only stop due to a pack of Bulettes meandering across the road. Gladio read quietly in the back seat, and Noctis draped himself across the top of the door, chin resting on his arms as he gazed towards the landscape rushing past. His brows were furrowed slightly and his fingers drummed a steady pattern against the metal, his mind a thousand miles elsewhere. 

It was clear from the thick but comfortable silence in the car that nobody was in the mood for speaking, yet Prompto always found such quiet to be stifling. It reminded him too much of years spent in the solitude of his childhood home, with nobody to speak to for days at a time. Though his time in the Crownsguard had helped him grow acclimated to _companionable_ silence, he felt like he always had a thousand conversations burning on the tip of his tongue, as though making up for lost time. Did Ignis have any insight about the flora and fauna of the region? The book that Gladio read almost religiously - what was it about? What was Noctis thinking about that held his attention so thoroughly - his lover, his father, or something as mundane as winning the next round of King’s Knight? 

Sighing to himself, Prompto settled for turning on the radio instead, listening to the announcer discuss some singer’s latest romantic entanglement as he scrolled through a photo-sharing app. There was one where people wrote secrets or thoughts that were pasted on top of some random photograph, which he’d always found amusing in a rather sadistic way. He figured Ignis would probably have something to say about that - _the need to be surrounded by noise and stimuli indicates that you’d rather concern yourself with the external than the internal,_ or some such thing. 

He’d probably be right, too. But it was easier to hear about the sordid details of a celebrity cheating on his sixth wife if it meant he could avoid thinking about the celebrity sitting behind him. Reading about strangers’ shitty love lives gave him some reassurance that, as fucked-up as his own was right now, at least he hadn’t been stupid enough to act on his desires… yet. 

Prompto typed out a quick message in the app, recklessly honest as he reveled in the anonymity. There was something freeing in being able to state his feelings so plainly, both in his mind and to see the truth laid bare, confessing without consequence. 

_I’m in love with my best friend. We’re both guys, and he’s in love with a **different** guy. It fucking sucks. _

He scrolled through the photos, smirking to himself as he settled on a picture of a lollipop. He tapped “submit” on his phone screen and scrolled through others’ confessions. 

_I got knocked up to make him stay_ , pasted boldly over a positive pregnancy test.

A picture of a crucifix with a cloudless sky as the backdrop - _I helped my pastor realize he’s gay ;)_

 _Starving helps me forget what she did_ , paired with a breadcrumb centered on a porcelain dish. 

A series of notification bubbles bloomed in the corner of the app, notifying him of responses to his post. Prompto felt his cheeks burn as he read the replies that poured in. 

>> Maybe he likes u 2. does he no you like him?????????!!!!!  
>> ew fags are nasty  
>> Good luck, bro. I know how you feel.  
>> #FeelsBadMan  
>> Have you confessed to him? I’ve lied about crushes in case they didn’t like me back.  
>> Does he know you’re gay?  
>> burn in hell homo  
>> omg i love yaoi!! X3 Good luck!! 

Prompto merely rolled his eyes at the more venomous responses, having heard similar comments throughout his years in public school. As open-minded as people tended to be in the Crown City, he often took for granted that those outside the walls tended to be more set in their ways. 

“Forgive me if I’m not familiar with slang, but what on earth is…. Y-A-O-I, Prompto?” Ignis remarked inquisitively. 

Still scrolling through the comments on the app, the blond answered distractedly, “Boys’ love, slash, shonen-ai - there’s a buncha different terms, but it’s basically stuff involving two guys.” 

“Hmm…. I thought that might have been the case. Still, I figured it would be wiser to ask.” 

It took a heart-stopping moment for Prompto to realize why Ignis was asking. 

Feeling as though his skin were burning itself alive, Prompto lifted his eyes and noticed Ignis’ gaze fixed curiously on his phone. Smaller details started to make themselves known: the position of the stick shift was in Park, and the dashboard lights were off, as well as the radio - _when did I stop paying attention to the radio in the first place?_ Judging from Ignis’ languid posture, they must have been that way for a few minutes before he’d taken it upon himself to make Prompto aware of it. Ignis took another sip from his beloved caffeinated drink before setting it in the cup holder once more, the fingers of his free hand drumming idly along the steering wheel. The advisor’s nonchalance was so perfectly at odds with the growing panic overwhelming him that, in any other situation, Prompto would have found the contrast hilarious. 

As absorbed in his phone as he’d been, Prompto had apparently been oblivious to it all, including the incriminating words that filled the screen. Each felt like an accusatory finger pointed at him, revealing the truth for all to see. 

Fag.  
Gay.  
Homo. 

_If the gods had a shred of mercy, any at all, Ramuh would strike me down right now._

Prompto wanted to come up with some kind of excuse, but the words seemed to have lodged themselves in his throat. He couldn’t hear the usual passengers in the backseat, and as it was, his mortification froze him to the spot. The light breakfast they’d had churned unpleasantly in his stomach, threatening to come up if he so much as opened his mouth. 

Strangely, Ignis only smiled and patted the blonde on his arm comfortingly. Prompto was good at many things, but masking his anxiety around Ignis clearly wasn’t one of them. He had an uncanny ability to discern his feelings with frightening clarity. 

“Gladio and Noctis left a few moments ago to stretch their legs,” he explained in a soothing murmur. “I assure you they were far too preoccupied to pay any mind to your phone.” 

Prompto’s mouth opened, a thousand excuses already on his tongue, but he clamped his jaw shut as he realized how utterly futile it was. 

Instead, he feigned intense interest in the loose threads of his vest and asked quietly, “So what do you think?” 

Ignis blinked in confusion and asked uncertainly, “What do I think about…. _what_ , precisely?”

Prompto frowned at that - was Ignis playing dumb on purpose? “Well, you obviously saw what people wrote. What do you think about… me… well, being that way?” 

The blond could have kicked himself - why was it so goddamn hard to use a single word? As easy as it was to call himself bisexual in his mind, he found it remarkably difficult to verbalize. It was as though the word was a spell, a brand upon his flesh - merely vocalizing it sealed an irrevocable pact the moment the word left his lips. Keeping the truth of his feelings within the confines of his heart kept him safe from having to face what came with it. 

_If I never actually say I’m in love with Noct, I don’t have to start forcing myself to accept that it’s never gonna happen._

“Ahhhh, that,” Ignis sighed, the disapproval clear in his voice. “The only thing that bothers me is that some still choose to use such words, particularly towards someone I’m fond of. Your own desires and inclinations are your own affairs.” 

“You’re not… disgusted?” Prompto blurted out. 

Shaking his head emphatically, Ignis answered, “Certainly not. It would be hypocrisy of the highest order to approve of the prince’s desires while judging yours. It’s perfectly natural.” 

Here, Ignis tapped a finger thoughtfully to his chin, a familiar prelude to a request where he pieced his words together carefully. 

“If I might be frank… there is a matter I’ve been meaning to discuss with you for some time. The need for such a conversation has been made more apparent in recent days, though I’m certain that, given the nature of it, that it would be preferable to do so when the audience is limited.” 

The nausea, which had started to abate slightly, resurged with a vengeance as dread held Prompto’s stomach in a vice. He could feel his head starting to swim as he fought down the urge to vomit. He wasn’t stupid - that intentional addition of _recent days_ made it abundantly clear what Ignis was referring to, and it was precisely the conversation he had been desperate to avoid.

“Y-you’re talking about Noct, aren’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this to go longer originally, but I felt like it would have been a second chapter's worth of writing for all I had planned.... and I waited long enough to update this thing. 
> 
> A small fun fact: The line Ignis uses comes directly from my Human Sexuality seminar. My professor's favorite thing to remind us of is that "secrets and shame will make you sick". Good advice, if you ask me. 
> 
> What do you think? Great? Gross? Comments are a writer's bread and butter~. Thank you so much for reading! :)

**Author's Note:**

> I fell into this fandom... _hard_. I knew before the game came out that I was probably going to ship Prompto and Noctis, and needless to say, the content of the game did not disappoint. It ripped my soul in two, which means that - like most people - I turn to fan fic to soothe it. 
> 
> In my opinion, I feel like Noctis would be the type that would _very_ much enjoy being a submissive. He has a huge position of power and lots of responsibility, so to me, it seems like he would find submission in a particular context to be a huge source of relief. Conversely, I think Prompto would relish the idea of having one place where he can be absolutely dominant, and have a claim to the prince that nobody else would dare. That idea sparked.... whatever the hell this will end up being. The first chapter ended up running away from me, which is how it ended up being fourteen pages before I was like, "OKAY THIS HAS TO CUT OFF SOMEWHERE." 
> 
> I'll eventually earn it an E-rating, but to make it feel more "natural" within the context of the game, they have to establish that they like each other to begin with. [shrug] I'm all about that slow burn, y'all. 
> 
> I'll admit that I have a general outline of what I want to happen when, but a precise chapter count? A concrete outline? Not really. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I work full-time and I'm in my last year of university, so I can't promise I'm going to update once a week or anything like that. (Sorry!) But this idea wouldn't leave me alone, and I really like where it's going in my head. So with all that said, I'm open to ideas or what have you if anyone has something they're interested in. Let me know what you love, loathe, whatevs~. Thank you for taking the time to read my self-indulgent (eventually) kinky fic. :D


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